


Christmas for Beginners

by notboldly



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Christmas, Family, Fluff, M/M, Romance, TOS canon, children!fail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-16
Updated: 2010-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-05 11:57:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notboldly/pseuds/notboldly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock’s quiet plans for the holidays are interrupted by the sudden appearance of Kirk and his nephews.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas for Beginners

It wasn’t often that _Enterprise_ was planet-side during the winter holidays, but when it did happen, Commander Spock inevitably chose to remain on the ship.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have a reluctant affection for the holidays, Christmas in particular; his mother had always spoken of her adventures during the colder months with fondness, and Spock was nothing if not curious about the origins of his mother’s laughter. In the traditional Vulcan way, he had even researched them extensively during his younger years, collecting myths and legends and curious quirks in order to find a better understanding of something with a purely emotional basis. As an outsider, he inevitably always had the chance to observe without being asked to intrude; from a scientific perspective, it had created a perfectly isolated experiment without risk of contamination to either side, and for a long time, years in fact, Spock had considered this ideal. But then, therein lay the problem: Christmas was not a scientific holiday. All of the basis for the celebrations and meals and copious amounts of drinking were not intended to be looked at logically, or studied, or seen. They were meant to be lived, experienced, _felt_.

By the time Spock realized that Christmas was the result of interactions rather than any concrete basis, he was thirty-one years old and completely unable to experience the holiday as humans did. Spock didn’t have a family to celebrate with anymore, and what friends he did have were either quite uninterested in the spectacle of December or otherwise involved with their own pursuits, namely their own family and close friends. When he was asked if he had plans for the holidays—and he was always asked, despite his constant remarks regarding the irrelevance of the time to Vulcans—Spock unfailingly replied with a very detailed summary of the scientific proofs he would be examining over the three days he had the ship entirely to himself in the space dock. As humans were wont to do, they quickly lost interest, and—possibly because the question was polite but never interested—not one person ever commented on the fact that Spock had neglected to mention any plans regarding loved ones.

Perhaps it was because Spock was used to being a single island in a sea of holiday cheer that this year was so surprising.

The morning of Christmas Eve, Spock received an urgent call from Captain Kirk from his location in the barren, snow-covered state of Iowa requesting immediate beam-up for four. Spock, alarmed by the order while orbiting Earth and during an otherwise peaceful period in time for the galaxy, complied without question or comment, merely electing to wait in the transporter room for the figure of his Captain to materialize, along with whoever he was in danger with. If Spock had given the matter any thought, he would have assumed the Captain would materialize surrounded by women, but—aware of the darkness of jealousy that sometimes surfaced on such occasions—it was a thought he resolutely avoided while he adjusted the transporter controls to account for the large snowstorm directly overhead the fields of Iowa.

Spock was both illogically relieved and shocked to see Captain Kirk appear with three young boys, all of them shivering even in their thick winter clothes. The youngest, a toddler that couldn’t have been more than three with bright red curls adorning the top of his head, was even sniffling rather pathetically, and Spock felt a momentary flash of concern for the young human, followed by thoughts of a more practical nature; specifically, where they had come from.

“Captain.” The Captain grinned at him tiredly, and Spock straightened. Rapidly, he judged the ages of the boys—nine, seven, and three, all reasonable ages—and then he stiffened even more.

“Your children, Captain?”

Kirk looked alarmed.

“What? No. _No_.” The youngest one giggled.

“This is Richard, Alan, and—” here he paused to pat the youngest one on the head “—Peter. They’re my nephews.”

Spock relaxed, but only slightly.

“I see. May I ask the nature of your emergency?”

Kirk snorted and stepped off the transporter pad with the children in tow, pausing only to shake the snow from his shoulders. The tallest one, Richard, glared at him when it landed on top of his dark hair.

“A blizzard. We were tobogganing about two miles from my mom’s house, and a _goddamn_ _blizzard_ came out of nowhere.”

Spock responded immediately, even though he had attempted in the past to curb his desire to correct the Captain’s statements.

“That is illogical, Captain; all weather on Earth follows specific patterns according to atmospheric pressure, temperature, and other easily determinable factors.”

They all stared at him for a moment, the wide eyes of the children strangely unsettling, before Richard turned back to Kirk with a frown.

“What is he, a computer?”

Kirk just smiled.

“No, he’s Commander Spock. Thank you, Mister Spock.”

There was silence while Spock nodded in acknowledgement, assuming that the illogical exchange was over. He moved back to the transporter controls.

“Is there another location where I can deposit you, Captain?”

Kirk looked at him in fond contemplation. Even almost three years after his other self’s prediction of their great friendship, the look never ceased to surprise him. As he always did when faced with the expression, Spock resolutely squashed down the longing for more, always more; he knew his place was as one of the Captain’s many friends, and nothing else.

“No, Mister Spock.”

Spock frowned, the expression barely noticeable.

“Sir?”

“Richard was asking about starships a while back, and now is as good of a time as any to show him around. So, we can stay here for a few days, and then I can drop them back off at their parents.”

Richard looked at Kirk like he was mentally ill, but he didn’t say anything. Spock waited for him to continue—surely the Captain did not wish to remain here with only children and Spock for company over the holidays—but the explanation never came.

“Do you not have other plans for the holiday, Captain?”

Kirk shrugged and brushed the snow off his nephew’s head affectionately, and Spock watched it fall in damp plops to the ground.

“Not really. Sam and his wife went on a second honeymoon of sorts to Deneva but their shuttle was delayed, and Mom got called into work, some emergency at Starbase Eight. It’s just me and the boys for a while.”

“I see.” Spock ignored the quick flutter of his pulse—highly irregular—and examined the children as they stared at him from a height no taller than his waist. As a general rule, Spock did not tolerate children well; however, he shamefully acknowledged that he would do most anything for Kirk’s company…including, unfortunately, associating with human children.

Spock met Kirk’s eyes, aware that the dazzling blue irises reflected laughter at his expense.

“Starfleet regulations require that all extra passengers onboard during homeport docking of a starship be entered into the log by the commanding officer.”

Kirk snorted, and when the blond-haired child in the middle—Alan, Spock recalled—seemed to take that as permission to run off, Kirk snatched out a hand to catch him reflexively.

“Oh yes, that. Right as always, Mister Spock.”

The statement sounded almost rueful, and Spock hurried to circumvent what could have been an insult.

“I am merely being pragmatic, sir.”

Kirk just snorted again and nudged his nephews forward, the silence broken only by the soft crinkle of their winter clothes. The ease with which Kirk herded the children towards the transporter room doors was impressive; it caused a very illogical ache even as Spock followed him dutifully, and the ache only increased when Kirk glanced at him over his shoulder and smiled.

Spock had seen the expression often enough to know that he had somehow been maneuvered into a most unfavorable situation.

“Of course, Spock. And—since we’re being practical—I should probably mention that I don’t want the kids running all down the corridors, and that I don’t think I’ll be able to watch them all the time.”

Spock nodded slowly.

“If you are ever unavailable, Captain, they may find me.”

Kirk grinned, and Spock saw the days ahead outlined clearly. Spock, watching children who would no doubt impede any scientific research he had intended, while Kirk left, possibly to seek out other company at one of the many Earth establishments. Although the expression had always made little sense to him, Spock was unable to deny the fact that his heart “fell” at the realization, and he swallowed stiffly when Kirk slapped him on the back with comradely affection.

“Thanks for the offer, Spock. Hopefully it will never come to that, since I know you have your own plans.”

Spock nodded, and he watched as Kirk walked away, followed by three smaller forms, each leaving a faint, damp trail to mark their path. He waited until they were out of human earshot, and then he sighed.

“Hopefully, Captain.”

With one last glance after the group, Spock turned and went back to the main science lab.

********

It wasn’t an hour later that the two oldest children found him, bent over an electron microscope and surrounded by technology too advanced even for Vulcan children to operate. Aware of his offer to the Captain, however reluctantly made it had been, Spock resisted the urge to banish them from the room at once, choosing instead to walk carefully around the perimeter and place the more dangerous samples and tools far out of their reach.

They watched him with identical and familiar blue eyes, and Spock paused only a moment to wonder if Kirk’s brother also had blue eyes before looking down at them.

“Are you aware of when the Captain will return?”

Richard answered the question around a piece of caramel candy, seemingly the more talkative of the two.

“Uncle Jim? He hasn’t left; he got a call from Grandma, and she asked us to leave the room. Uncle Jim told us to find you.”

Spock did not acknowledge the relief or the invitation to pry, merely accepting that—once again—Kirk had surprised him that day.

“I see. In that case, do not touch anything.”

Spock waited only long enough to receive twin nods of agreement before he resumed his work; he needn’t have bothered, since the whisper of their voices, while quiet, was more than enough to distract.

“Don’t stare, Alan—it’s rude.”

“No, don’t point either. Uncle Jim says—”

“Alan, he said not to touch anything!”

Spock heard the distinct sound of a slap, and he turned to see the younger one cradling his hand, lip wobbling. Richard looked extraordinarily guilty, as if he had not expected his own actions, and Spock straightened.

“You should not strike your brother.” It wasn’t Spock’s place to discipline either of them, of course, but Richard seemed to take his words as seriously as if Spock had true power over them.

Spock wondered what Kirk had told them about him, if anything.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Spock looked at the two of them standing awkwardly near the door, looking out of place and tiny, much like how Spock had felt when he was a child. In reaction to the stray thought, he moved to one of the side machines—a relatively simple piece of equipment—and loaded a basic slide for testing new science officers.

“Have you ever seen accelerated mitosis of a fungal cell?”

They shook their heads in response, and Spock gestured them forward to view the amplified screen while he explained everything about biology that a Vulcan child would have known by the time they were six.

********

Kirk must have been amused to find them crowded around a science station while Spock gave a lecture worthy of the academy, but he didn’t laugh or comment as a human normally would have. Instead, he merely shifted the bundle of toddler he held in his arms and pressed a hand to Spock’s back, the gesture affectionate.

Spock felt the tingle under his skin of a mind familiar and welcome, and he inched to the side just far enough to dislodge the touch.

“Captain, I trust you have come to retrieve your young relatives?”

Kirk smiled at him with the faintest curve of his lips, and Spock wanted to reach out to him; he did not.

“Not necessarily. You seem to be doing just fine, Mister Spock.”

Spock glanced at where Richard was flipping through the slides, and he imagined grubby fingerprints covering the labels he had labored over at the start of the mission.

“I am not a babysitter, Captain.”

Kirk opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the two children nearby looked up at him sharply.

“We’re not babies!”

This came from Richard, and Spock spared him a glance.

“Obviously not, as the definition of a human infant is a child from one to twelve months.”

Spock didn’t wait to see if the explanation appeased them, instead turning back to Kirk. In response, Kirk merely set the now-awake Peter on the floor, waiting until he clambered towards his brothers before answering softly.

“Of course not, Spock. If they’re bothering you that much, we’ll leave you alone.”

Spock wavered, knowing it would be a lie to allow even the minor misconception to go unnoted.

“They are not…bothering me, Captain. However, I was under the impression that Christmas was a time for familial celebration, of which I am not.”

Kirk looked at him oddly for a moment before leaning closer.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Spock, but “family” is a pretty loose term. Who says you’re not?”

Before Spock could respond, Kirk leaned back and cupped a hand around his mouth.

“Peter! Lunch!”

The toddler wobbled back to Kirk with a squeal high pitched enough to cause Spock almost to flinch, and then Kirk left without another word, the redhead tucked safely back in his arms.

Spock watched him go in confusion, certain he was missing something, and then turned back to the elder children. They watched him with the interest as children often did when viewing something new and strange, and Spock once again resisted the urge to say something biting and dismissive.

“Do you require sustenance?”

Richard nodded rapidly while Alan continued to stare at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah, I’m starved!”

As always, it was Richard alone who answered him. Spock wondered momentarily why they had not followed Kirk when he left, but he received his answer when he moved towards the door. Evidently, they had decided to follow _him_.

Spock was undecided whether he should be unnerved or flattered by the realization, and so he simply chose uncertainty as he walked the miniature humans in the direction of the main mess hall while the taller of the two began to talk.

Although Spock chose not to reply to much of the conversation directed his way, Richard had still managed to cover at least three different topics before they reached the mess hall occupied only by the Captain and the still-giggling toddler. Spock was inordinately amused to notice that much of Kirk’s shirt was covered in spaghetti sauce, and he was reminded—quite unexpectedly—of his mother’s advice for not feeding young children messy foods.

Spock noticed that Kirk’s own food was untouched, a highly unusual occurrence, and he felt a pang similar to the one he always felt when watching other families.

His chain of thought was interrupted abruptly by a hand tugging at his sleeve. Spock looked down, expecting it to be the still-talking Richard. Instead, he saw the top of a white-blond head focused determinedly on his leg.

Spock was struck, suddenly, by the knowledge that this child was most likely much shorter than he should have been.

“You have an inquiry?”

Alan shook his head, and Spock frowned minutely.

“You are hungry?”

A nod this time, and Spock moved, maneuvering both Richard and the accompanying child gently towards the replicator. He waited patiently, but while Richard seemed to get the hint that he needed to select his food, the younger child did not move.

Spock glanced down at him again, and he saw the briefest flash of a face looking up at him before the young boy quickly turned away once more.

“Do you have a food preference?”

The response was a negative shake of his head, and Spock quickly ordered up something that was both acceptable for a child’s nutrition and edible by human standards. Out of curiosity, he selected a Vulcan dish. Spock was intrigued when Alan simply accepted it quietly.

They sat at the table in silence, and Spock only became aware upon sitting that Kirk was staring at him, expression frozen. Spock would have asked if there was a problem, except at that instant Richard made a face—disgust—and pointed at his bowl.

“Ew, that looks like seaweed. What kind of elf eats seaweed?”

Spock lifted his spoon but did not explain the details of his meal.

“I am not an elf. I am a Vulcan.”

Richard looked intrigued for half a second, and then:

“A Vulcan. So…like an alien?”

“Yes.”

Richard smiled, showing slightly crooked teeth, before digging into a sandwich that looked almost identical to Kirk’s.

“Awesome. Aliens are way cooler than elves. I want to be an alien when I grow up.”

Spock was fairly certain, at that point, that he would never understand the human mind at any age, but then Kirk laughed, his expression soft and understanding, and Spock found he did not mind.

“Don’t worry about it, Spock; Richard is the curious one in the bunch, and he switches interests pretty fast.”

Spock nodded, having seen evidence of just that trait in the barest hours since meeting Kirk’s nephews.

“I see. Curiosity is always admirable.”

Peter looked up from his meal, and then he raised his hand. Spock, in response, merely raised an eyebrow.

“When I grow up, I’m gonna fly a spaceship through the moon!”

Spock frowned.

“That is illo—” Kirk darted a quick glance at him, and Spock quickly cut off his response.

“That is an…ambitious goal.”

Kirk let out a quiet laugh, and for a moment, Spock believed that he was trying very hard to restrain himself from some action of affection; Spock regretted that he felt the need. After a pause heavy with uncertainty, Spock reached over and squeezed Kirk’s shoulder briefly, but the way Kirk smiled at him made the motion worth it. Kirk’s eyes flashed with something unrecognizable and strong, and when Spock pulled back, he immediately looked away.

“So…” Kirk paused to twine another noodle around the fork in his hand and offer it to Peter before he glanced around the table, clear amusement on his face.

“Who wants to tell me what Spock has been teaching you guys for the past three hours?”

********

After receiving a shaky and nonsensical explanation from his talkative nephew, Kirk carefully guided the conversation to subjects that Spock imagined were more for his benefit than any necessity on Kirk’s part. Richard was nine and doing well in school and—as Kirk explained when his query was greeted only with silence—Alan was seven and a year ahead of his class in mathematics. Peter was three, and he had recently discovered the gift of speaking in full sentences, something that was apparently delayed due to the fact that Richard tended to answer any and all questions whether they directly involved him or not.

Kirk seemed to find the quirk endearing; Spock was just able to refrain from wincing, and he answered shortly when prompted. Nobody seemed to mind his relative silence and the awkward way the conversation stilled around him, but Spock was still forced to resist the urge to excuse himself. When he felt the lightest of touches on the curve of his back—a pat, so to speak, thanking him for his time before it was quickly removed—the urge quickly disappeared, but Spock refused to admit to such a weakness. Despite evidence to the contrary, Spock did not lean into the touch, nor did he delay completion of his meal in order to remain at Kirk’s side.

Richard—proving he was as attentive as Spock had believed he wasn’t—paused in his talking just long enough to stare at Spock before he continued, going on at great length about…dyeing a cat fuchsia?

“She didn’t stay that way for long Uncle Jim, honest she didn’t. Dad says it’s because I didn’t use enough dye, but Mom sent him to his room before he could tell me anymore.”

Kirk snorted, and then he patted Richard on the head. As he had the first time, Richard just glared at him; he was seemingly not fond of public displays of affection, and Spock could understand that. It was common for children near his age, or so he had read, privately, while his temporary charges had been distracted.

“It’s just as well, Richard—your Mama didn’t want you to go on a pet-dyeing spree, and I have to agree; there are way cooler pranks.”

Spock sipped his soup and did not comment, fully aware that the Captain had his own rules that he lived by. He was surprised, then, when Kirk glanced at him, eyes gleaming.

“Wouldn’t you say, Spock?”

Spock answered honestly.

“A “prank” implies a certain level of cruelty that is present in the children of many species, Captain. It is not a common activity for Vulcans.”

Kirk looked at him in contemplation, and Richard stared at them oddly again.

“No dipping little girls’ curls in inkwells?”

Spock raised one eyebrow.

“Vulcan schools had long since advanced past the need for inkwells, Captain, as you are well aware. Furthermore, such activities would have caused unnecessary conflict with my schoolmates.”

“‘Unnecessary conflict.’” Kirk smiled, the expression a quick gleam of teeth, and then he turned back to his nephew.

“Well, there you have it, Richard—you had an ‘unnecessary conflict’ with the neighbor’s cat.”

Richard looked annoyed.

“That’s what Mom said.”

The matter was seemingly dismissed after that, and Spock wondered as to the purpose of the conversation. He didn’t wonder long, however, because then Kirk stretched and stood, patting his stomach in a gesture that Spock recognized as being one of contentment.

“Nothing like replicated food when orbiting Earth. Are you guys finished?”

The three children bobbed their heads in response, and then Kirk glanced at Spock.

“Mister Spock? Would you like to come with us on the tour of the ship?”

Spock did, very much, but he knew he should not ask for any more favors. He did not want to, as humans would say, “push his luck.”

“Thank you for the offer, Captain, but I have other matters to attend to. If you will excuse me.”

Spock stood and gathered his tray, and for a moment he thought he caught the barest glimpse of disappointment on Kirk’s face.

“Very well, Mister Spock. We’ll come find you for dinner if that’s acceptable?”

Spock deposited his tray in the recycler, trying not to look pleased at the prospect that Kirk did indeed want his company.

“I will add it to my schedule, Captain.”

Spock left the mess hall quietly, and when cheerful laughter followed him, he resisted the temptation to glance back.

********

Despite his initial assessment of the situation, Spock was left to his work until well into the evening, and he accomplished much in the lonely hours. By the time his internal clock warned him that dinnertime for humans was fast approaching, he had already completely updated the computer data banks to account for the _Enterprise_ ’s past missions in excruciating detail, started several delicate experiments that were not safe to be conducted in potentially hostile space, and crafted several reports on the latest discoveries in Federation science as well as one in Romulan science to be published in a slew of scientific journals at the next available date. It was more productive than he had planned since Kirk had beamed aboard, but unfortunately, it was not as productive as he would have liked or even within the realm of what he was normally capable of.

The fact of the matter was that Spock was distracted. Even without the physical presence of Kirk and his nephews, Spock still found his mind lingering on what seemed to him to be a picture of a family, whole if not perfect: the doting uncle, the well-behaved children, the feeling of holidays celebrated even when they were not together. It was like something out of a storybook, and, perhaps it was the time of the year and memories of his own mother, but Spock realized that despite his reluctant and deep affection for his captain, he was jealous. Even though Kirk had made it abundantly clear that he did not mind spending a small portion of his holiday leave with Spock, there was still a chasm between them—the officer and the family.

If Spock had needed any more of a reminder that he was an outsider, he certainly had it, and the knowledge kept his mind from focusing completely on work as the hours passed. What was worse, however, was that when Kirk and his charges came to collect him, Spock’s regrettable thoughts surfaced.

Even though he felt their presence, Spock did not look up from where he was scribbling furiously on his datapad.

“Captain, I am unable to leave my work at this time. Might I suggest continuing on with your previous plans for the evening?”

“Well, we’re not in a hurry. We can just wait.”

Spock glanced over his shoulder at the four faces smiling at him patiently, and he looked away before annoyance could cross his face.

“I see. It is unlikely I will be finished in the next two point seven hours.”

The air shifted around him, crackling with the presence of another, and Spock didn’t need to look up to know that it was Kirk.

“What are you working on?”

His voice was interested and gentle, unbearably so. Spock’s fingers tightened momentarily around the stylus in his hand before he answered.

“A report for Doctor Hemyi, of the Andorian Technology Institute.”

Kirk shifted, and Spock could see the frown on his face out of the corner of his eye.

“Isn’t that due in, like, two months?”

“Two point four months.”

“Can’t it wait an hour?”

“No. It cannot.”

The statement was almost petulant, and Spock knew by the quick jolt of the body beside him that it startled Kirk. The Captain turned, and Spock expected him to leave; however, he only gave the children instructions to proceed to the mess hall and wait for them before turning back around.

Spock should have known Kirk would not just let the matter rest. When Kirk calmly slid the datapad and stylus from his fingers, the brush of skin—too quick—made Spock feel even more agitation, and he was ashamed.

“You’re in a bad mood.”

“Vulcans do not experience _moods_ , Captain.”

Kirk sighed, and when Spock still didn’t look at him, he suddenly spun the chair around, effectively forcing Spock to look away from his work.

“Uh-huh. We’re back to Captain, then.”

Kirk sounded almost annoyed, and Spock stiffened reflexively.

“It is a breach of regulations for the commanding officer—”

“Spock, stop.”

The command was unexpectedly tender, and Spock clamped his mouth shut on the rest of his sentence. When Kirk brushed a gentle hand across his shoulder, he knew he’d made a mistake.

“Why does it bother you so much that I’m trying to include you in this? Do you dislike children or something?”

“Human children are significantly less advanced than Vulcan children.”

“Yes, and?” Of course Kirk knew what he wasn’t saying; from the first day they’d met, Kirk had always been able to read the uncomfortable human truths behind Spock’s Vulcan façade. It made him an invaluable friend, if for no other reason than the fact it forced Spock to be more honest than he would have been otherwise, as it did now.

“And they are your family, not mine.”

His words were quiet, displaying an emotionalism that he would not have willingly shown to anyone except Kirk.

Kirk did not disappoint; although he sighed, there was no condemnation in the noise, and when he spoke, it was as if Spock’s reluctant admittance was forgotten.

“You know, off the record, I had kind of a shitty childhood.”

Spock glanced at him quickly, but Kirk wasn’t looking at him. He was looking away, at something Spock was unable to see, and when he sat calmly on the edge of a nearby table, Spock suspected he felt the weight of the world.

“Captain?”

“You brought it up once yourself, you know—my father. He plagued my life when I was a kid, and even though I was the definition of a good student for years, it was never enough. Being George Kirk’s son…well, there was really no getting away from the crimes of the parent. Or glory, as the case may be.”

“Captain…” The urge to apologize for the past grievance was strong, but Spock had tried just that, once, some time ago; Kirk had dismissed it with a laugh, explaining that he’d heard it all before.

Judging by the way Kirk’s eyes shifted now, Spock knew it still caused him pain regardless of the number of times it had occurred. Kirk looked at him suddenly as if he had heard the thought, and his eyes, although sad, had a touch of camaraderie in them that Spock had seen many times.

“I think you understand what I’m saying, and that you probably understand better than a lot of people. I didn’t have a great childhood, and even though things have mellowed out in the past few years, there are still elements of it everywhere.”

Kirk looked away with a sigh and rubbed his palms against his thighs absently. He looked away for only a moment—almost as if he needed to draw from his endless well of courage—and then he looked back at Spock determinedly.

“Because I didn’t have a great home life, Spock, I found my family somewhere else. Bones, a few friends, Pike to some extent—that hasn’t changed, except for one thing: I want _you_ in it.”

Spock stared at him; to most of the crew it would have seemed like a normal gaze, perhaps even disinterested, but Spock knew Kirk could see beyond that. He was both shocked and enthralled at the idea that Kirk might want him so close, as family, even if it was not exactly what Spock wanted for them.

He didn’t know how to express that gratitude without showing longing, however, so he settled for saying only his surface thoughts.

“A most illogical want, Jim.”

Kirk laughed, and he hopped off the table before smoothing a hand across the stretch of Spock’s shoulders. The gesture was friendly, as always, and Spock was content with it.

“And _there’s_ my favorite word!”

Spock allowed his lips to twitch upwards as he stood, and Kirk stared for just a moment before he shook his head and leaned forward. Before Spock had time to wonder what he was doing, Kirk had pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. The touch was perfunctory, passionless, and almost equivalent to a warm pat on the back, with a single exception: it made Spock’s blood sing and his body hunger, even while his mind was puzzled.

Kirk, for his part, just continued to smile as if nothing had happened, and when he turned to leave the lab, Spock watched him in confusion.

“Captain?”

Kirk looked over his shoulder and inexplicably held out his hand.

“Come on, my Vulcan friend; tear yourself away from work for a little bit, and just have dinner with us.”

Spock didn’t know what to say, and so he simply cleared his throat and hid his hands behind his back. A kiss was one thing, and was capable of being just friendly; handholding with a Vulcan was something else entirely, and Spock knew he had to resist.

“I—yes.”

When Spock continued to simply stand, Kirk finally let his hand fall. Then, without a single comment about what had just occurred, Kirk led the way to the mess hall. He spent the walk happily chatting to a silent Spock about the tour and the fact that Alan had hidden himself in a Jeffries tube in order to jump on his older brother.

********

Contrary to Kirk’s previous statement about the matter, it wasn’t just dinner; out of a need for understanding and what Spock convinced himself was a perfectly logical desire to understand human customs, he found himself yielding to Kirk’s gentle urging that he participate in required holiday activities. Although he resisted at first, Spock admitted privately that he was more intrigued with the idea than annoyed, and so he found himself following the group to the main rec room, expecting some of the more garish traditions he had heard about. He was almost excessively curious as to how such things would fit into his perception of Kirk, and upon entering the room, he braced for shock.

What greeted them, however, was simply a normal rec room, and—after twenty minutes of watching his captain take apart one of the minor replicators and adjust the internal arrangement—Spock became convinced that “required holiday activities”  was just an excuse for Kirk to be destructive with Starfleet property under the guise of the holiday.

There was a clatter and a shout of “Ah- _ha_!” and the sudden noise distracted Spock from his intent monitoring of the children.

“Sir?”

Kirk stretched a hand out from where he was currently buried waist-deep inside the wall below the replicator.

“Hand me that casing, will you?” Spock complied. “Ah, thanks.”

Spock resumed staring suspiciously at Kirk’s nephews while Kirk explained the purpose of his tampering almost aimlessly. Richard waved back at him.

“See, the problem with replicators is that they’re only programmed to serve certain functions—primarily, everything they make is ingestible and fitting a certain form. They’re not real great at producing something that’s a bit different from food in the normal sense—they have a problem with poached eggs and things. In this case, the problem is ice shavings.”

Spock waited; when Kirk didn’t explain further, Spock assumed he was waiting for a response.

“Ice shavings, Captain?”

“Yeah. Replicators can make ice, but it takes an adjustment to get them to make ice shavings.”

Kirk pushed himself out from underneath the machine, just in time for the replicator to begin to whirr and jerk with the new specifications, and for fluffy white dust to form inside the compartment. Kirk reached in, judged the product to be sufficient, and then held out a handful with a grin.

“See? Snow.”

Spock reluctantly touched the cold powder with his hand and—although the feeling of “wet  
and “cold” was familiar and expected—the texture was surprising, as was the gentle heat of Kirk’s palm. Spock took his time analyzing the sensations, and he knew their prolonged touch was just an excuse for his fingers to linger on Kirk’s rather than because he was genuinely interested in touching ice shavings.

Kirk didn’t seem to mind, even when the soft product melted from their heat and the excuse of examining “snow” no longer existed.

Spock added this new data to the kiss of just an hour before, and he drew his now-damp fingers away.

“Interesting.”

Kirk just continued to grin as he set one of many assorted buckets underneath the altered replicator.

“I thought so. I was actually trying to come up with a way to do this without destroying something, you know. But I didn’t really feel like throwing chunks of ice at my nephews.”

Spock wiped his hand on the fabric of his pants and raised an eyebrow.

“Snow was not the intended purpose?”

“It was, sort of. But actually, the activity is a snow ball fight.”

Spock recalled images, paintings and pictures, of the much-lauded sport.

“I was led to believe such activities were performed outdoors.”

“They are, but it will work even better here. We don’t have enough snow to build forts, but tables will work, and no one will get really cold.”

Kirk leaned forward conspiratorially, and Spock stiffened as warm air brushed his cheek.

“Plus, it tires them out before bed.”

Kirk pulled away, and Spock cursed himself for thinking Kirk would kiss him in front of his nephews. He also admitted, somewhat ashamedly, that he had quite forgotten they were nearby.

He added this data to the day’s events as well before commenting on Kirk’s chosen activity.

“I see. What do you wish me to do?"

Kirk turned quickly, as though he had only been waiting for Spock to agree. Perhaps he had been.

The silence was filled with the sound of the replicator whirring furiously, and bucket after bucket of the improvised snow was set on the floor.

“Richard, Peter and I will be team one, and you and Alan will be team two.” The kids jumped up in excitement upon hearing their names, and they immediately overturned long tables on opposite sides of the room. Apparently, Kirk had informed them of what was to occur.

Kirk handed him a bucket and then patted him lightly on the shoulder.

“Be gentle, okay?”

“Of course.”

Spock bent to gather the remaining four buckets before moving to his assigned “fort,” where the silent presence of Alan was waiting.

Alan immediately looked up at him and then away, shoving a hand eagerly into the nearest bucket. Spock watched, fascinated, as the powdery substance was formed into a fragile sphere, and then he quickly copied the motion.

As he’d expected, his body temperature melted the ice before the shape was fully formed, and so he reluctantly rose to generate a pair of gloves. When he returned, the single ball had become half a dozen.

“You have participated in this activity before?”

Alan nodded but did not respond vocally, and Spock had not expected him to do so. He began to form the balls as well, calculating the exact amount of pressure needed to force the particles into the optimum shape.

“What is its purpose?”

Alan didn’t look up, and his voice—the first time Spock had heard it—was as quiet as the sound of packing snow.

“To make the other team give up.”

Spock raised an eyebrow again and then frowned, eyeing the other table where it sat thirteen feet, seven inches away.

“Force a forfeit? That may be difficult; the Captain is unmatched in tactics.”

Alan looked up at him uncomprehendingly, his eyes wide and expression timid, and Spock was struck by the thought that this child found him intimidating. It couldn’t be helped, and so Spock simply grabbed one of the pre-formed spheres.

“No matter. We will press our limited advantage.”

He tossed the ball in an overhead arch, and they watched as it landed somewhere just behind the opposite table. There was a squeal, and Spock heard Kirk laugh.

“Hey! I didn’t say go!”

There was a quiet laugh from beside him, and Spock considered the game a success overall even before the “fight” truly began.

********

It was only natural that Spock’s team won; with the help of a veteran participant, his superior knowledge of geometry, and Kirk’s handicap of a very young child, it was expected. Also as expected, Kirk did not appreciate him pointing this out, not even when Spock brought his team towels to mop up what was a truly substantial amount of water. Richard and Peter—also soaking wet—glared alternately at him and their uncle, Richard regularly bemoaning the fact that aliens were apparently better at everything.

Alan—relatively dry except for the occasional spot from when he’d ducked out from behind their shelter to toss his own spheres with surprisingly good aim—just giggled and occasionally ducked behind Spock’s legs in the face of half-hearted threats from his family.

Kirk glared at him, and Spock saw it for the façade it was.

“It probably should have occurred to me that you’d be great at this, but for some reason, I thought we’d win since we had Richard.”

Richard—as most humans did—puffed out his chest at the praise, and Spock found some amusement in how effective Kirk’s words were. Also, he was surprised at how effective Kirk’s _methods_ were as well; after what couldn’t have been more than an hour of strenuous physical activity, the younger children had begun to droop with exhaustion, and even Richard was stifling yawns. The late hour of 2200 hours was no doubt a contributing factor, but there was still no denying that the fight had indeed “tired them out.”

When Kirk herded his nephews off to bed with a whisper to Spock that they could “play chess later,” Spock couldn’t help but wonder what that meant for Kirk and himself, and so he found himself walking almost absently back to his rooms. He knew he would get no more work done while he waited, as he was experiencing what Nyota had affectionately termed “the jitters.”

His situation was soon forgotten, however, when he heard happy laughter in the cabin next door, and he came to the conclusion that when Kirk stated he was sending his nephews to bed, he had meant his own. Spock—half because he was a Vulcan and half because he had no actual experience with physical closeness with his parents—was intrigued at the idea, and he found himself slipping into Kirk’s quarters quietly…to study, not to intrude, he promised himself.

What he found was an image out of a Christmas card, an old movie, a perfect memory. Kirk sat with a datapad on his lab, but despite the professionalism that the item offered, his face was wide and grinning, and his voice was as tender as Spock never expected it could be.

“T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the house—hey, Richard, don’t poke him!—not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.”

Despite the fact that most of the children were old enough to manage such simple phrases by themselves, Kirk was reading an old Christmas poem to them that Spock had to admit was charming in its novelty. The act itself, however, of Kirk reading to his nephews was something entirely different, and it caused his heart to pound and ache at the domesticity of it, the warmth, the love.

Spock hadn’t realized he was staring until Kirk looked up at him and smiled, even gestured him over. Spock didn’t move immediately, because he’d never intended to intrude, but when he did move, it was to leave just as quietly as he’d come, the image of Kirk smoothing the hair of his oldest nephew down as he drifted off to sleep permanently stored in his brain.

Spock didn’t lock his quarters, and it was no surprise to him when Kirk followed him silently, slipping through the bathroom door as Spock had done and simply leaning against the door frame, watching. Spock felt his eyes as much as he’d felt the snow from before, but this time it was warm, so warm.

“Spock? Hey, what’s wrong now?”

Spock swallowed, unwilling to admit that nothing was wrong although it was true. He didn’t want to admit, not even to Kirk, that the scene of before had been sweet, because he wanted to cherish it on his own. Christmas…he was beginning to understand.

A firm hand came to rest on his shoulder, and it rubbed gently across corded muscles. When Spock turned to look at Kirk, his eyes were soft and understanding.

“Just the holidays, huh? Do you want to play chess?”

Spock nodded, grappling gladly for the attempt at normalcy even though Kirk’s hand still remained on his back.

********

Chess was much as it always was: interesting and time-consuming, but still very much an excuse for each man to stay in the other’s company. Prior to that evening, Spock would have said that their time was lopsided in that way, with Kirk’s motives being friendship and Spock’s being longing and lust in addition to that friendship, but now, he wasn’t so certain.

He had known Kirk for years, and not once had Spock ever seen him kiss someone who was merely a friend. While with some individuals this may have been attributed to shyness, Kirk had never been shy or even particularly discreet with his affections, and this time he appeared to be displaying signs of both.

However—and this would have been most maddening if Spock was not above such things—Kirk was resolutely refusing to talk about it.

“Today was fun, wasn’t it? I mean, it was acceptable?”

Spock nodded and smoothly moved a rook from level two to level three. Kirk just waited, and he didn’t react when his bishop was removed by long fingers.

“Yes, Jim, it was.”

Kirk grinned, and he moved his remaining bishop in what Spock would have said was a foolish move, except Kirk had become a master at unconventional but effective tactics over the past two years. closer examination revealed it to be a very brilliant move, and Spock took a moment to recalculate his strategy while Kirk twisted a pawn between two fingers.

“I’m glad we didn’t get in your way.”

Spock didn’t look up; Kirk’s mind was a source of endless fascination to him, and it never ceased to surprise him how easily he was ensnared by it.

“You are never a bother.”

Kirk laughed, the sound strong and confident.

“I kind of doubt that, but I meant my nephews. I’ve never seen you have much of anything to do with kids, so I didn’t know if you’d be comfortable.”

Spock nodded, and Kirk continued, voice soft and fond.

“I should’ve known that you’d be amazing, like you always are.”

Spock didn’t have to look at Kirk to know he was smiling, but he glanced up anyway just to see the way the light played over his face. He was enraptured, and as such, it took a moment for Kirk’s words to sink in.

When they did, Spock was certain he had heard them incorrectly.

“Amazing, Jim?”

Kirk snorted again while he tossed the pawn absently from hand to hand.

“Don’t fish for compliments—you know.”

“I do not.”

Kirk looked at him suspiciously, but when Spock merely waited, he seemed to realize that he was not “fishing for compliments” as Kirk had first assumed.

“Oh. Well, you’re just kind of…well, like a cool neighbor, or friend, or something. Not a parent, but an adult. I’ve actually been meaning to thank you for being so great, especially with Alan. You didn’t have to be.”

The way the last statement was phrased made Spock frown.

“What is wrong with Alan?”

Kirk shrugged, and Spock knew he was trying to seem deliberately casual about the subject.

“Nothing really. The theory is that he has some kind of social anxiety disorder or something—he’s not really great at connecting with adults, but he liked you. Heck, he was even talking when I put him to bed.”

Spock absorbed the information silently, and when he was finished, he concluded that he truly knew less about human children than he had originally thought.

“Interesting. He is not significantly more silent than I was at his age.”

Kirk looked surprised, and when he spoke, his voice was flat.

“Really.”

“Yes.”

Kirk smiled then, wide and impressive. Spock did not understand why.

“Well hell, Spock, that actually explains a lot.”

“I do not understand.”

Kirk waved the matter away, and then he quickly darted out a hand before Spock could pursue the issue further, snatching Spock’s last knight off the board. Spock was successfully distracted as he tried to arrange his remaining pieces in such a way as to ensure victory, finding it surprisingly difficult but not impossible.

They played in silence for the remainder of the game, and when it ended with Kirk being checkmated, the board was quickly reset while Kirk stood and helped himself to a glass of the brandy Spock stored especially for him. It took two moves each in silence before Spock addressed something that had been bothering him all evening, something that he suspected needed to be addressed.

“I am…puzzled that you did not put them in guest quarters.”

It was such a minor detail, but Spock’s temporary presence during the reading of the Christmas story had revealed one thing: Starfleet issue beds were not wide enough to comfortably contain three children and an adult male.

Kirk just looked at him, and although his voice was light, his gaze was intent, strong, piercing.

“They’re kids. As cool as the ship is, they wouldn’t want to sleep somewhere they don’t know, and my quarters look and smell like me if nothing else.”

Spock looked down at the board, waiting for Kirk to make his turn. When he did, the move was thoughtless, as if he did not care about the results; it was a most unusual attitude for Kirk.

“I see. Where will you sleep?”

When Spock looked up, Kirk was smiling at him gently; it was an expression that Spock had seen many times, but never directed at him until—he realized—that day.

He had seen it several times that day.

“I was actually hoping I could sleep with you.”

Spock swallowed, and his hand jerked as he moved his knight. The piece was easily taken—it had been a foolish move, and a distracted one.

“If you wish, I will keep myself busy in the science laboratories tonight.”

Kirk sighed, and the sound was understandably exasperated.

“Don’t be obtuse; you know what I mean.”

Spock cleared his throat and continued to examine the chess board, although at this point he was aware of it as the pretense it was.

“In fact, I do not, Jim. You have displayed signs of romantic affection over the past eleven point two hours, but this is without precedent. I am uncertain if this is merely what is referred to as “holiday romance” or if you wish for something more permanent.”

“Well, you don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

“Beat around…?”

Kirk sighed again, but this time he stood and circled around the small chess table to the other side. He was close, so impossibly close, and Spock found himself wanting to rise up to meet him, breath to breath, chest to chest, skin to skin. It was not an unusual want for him, but this time, Spock realized it was actually something within reach.

“Never mind. The answer to the question, in any case, is that I’ve been drooling over you for months and that you’re my best friend. That really only says one thing to me, and spending today with you has made a simple possibility turn into the only option.”

Spock hung onto his words like the cherished dreams they were, and he leaned into the hand that brushed his hair. Kirk’s eyes were tender.

“You’re amazing, Spock.”

Spock swallowed, and as before, he couldn’t believe his ears. Even after his questionable moods, his awkwardness around Kirk’s cherished family members, and despite his many flaws, Kirk still thought he was something special. Spock hoped that Kirk’s mistaken image of him never changed, and something of what he was thinking must have shown on his face; Kirk’s expression was suddenly relieved, as if he had somehow doubted whether Spock felt the same.

“I’ll take that as an ‘I like you too, Jim.’ Of course, it would be better if you could say it with sex, but I’ll take what I can get at this point.”

Kirk’s voice was teasing, and Spock stood, suddenly and abruptly, to cup his face. Kirk was startled, clearly, but as before, Spock pressed his advantage.

“If you insist, Jim.”

The brush of their lips was gentle like the first, but this time it lingered and firmed as Spock closed his eyes to savor the sensation and the simple touch. When Kirk realized that Spock was in fact kissing him, the delicate balance between them shifted, and the easy press of their lips ended when Kirk crushed himself roughly to the body in front of his and twined a hand into Spock’s dark hair. There was eagerness in his motions, an enthusiasm that Spock had never been privy to, and the discovery of this side of Kirk was enough to make him growl and press his tongue against the dip of his lips, pulling him forward until only their clothing separated them, and Kirk responded by digging his free hand into the corded muscles of Spock’s shoulder.

When Kirk moaned and sucked his tongue into his mouth, tasting of cool brandy and a soft salty flavor that Spock could just barely detect, Spock grabbed him by the curve of his thighs and lifted him just long enough to press him against the nearest surface, keeping him suspended between the hard press of his body and the unyielding wall of his quarters. Things were moving too fast, Spock was certain of it, but when Kirk responded by bucking his hips and grinding his erection into his stomach, he couldn’t seem to care. When Spock answered the pressure by sliding a hand between them to rub against the bulge he longed to touch, to taste, the issue was completely forgotten in the heat of their embrace.

It was everything he had ever wanted…

“Uncle Jim?”

They froze. Spock ended the kiss abruptly and turned, Kirk making a startled sound before he too noticed the tiny figure nearby. Spock found it difficult to believe that they hadn’t heard the chime for entry, but as he glanced over and saw the open bathroom door, he received his answer.

Peter, no doubt having seen his uncle slip through the bathroom just hours before, had merely followed Kirk. Neither Spock nor Kirk had thought to lock the door, and the result was a small redheaded child peering at them with blue eyes that were thankfully too fogged by sleep at the moment to be curious and questioning.

Spock attempted to pull back from where he still had Kirk pinned against a wall, and he only succeeded in shifting uncomfortably as Kirk’s arms remained locked tight around him. He looked at Kirk questioningly, and Kirk responded with a whisper.

“Don’t move Spock, at least for a minute. Peter’s way too young for me to explain the birds and bees to him!”

Spock became aware of the hardness that still rested against his belly, undeterred by their extra company, and he nodded slowly before looking back at Peter in his replicated Starfleet pajamas.

Peter seemed to be aware enough of them now to look at them oddly.

“Uncle Jim? Are you wrestling with Spock?”

Kirk groaned, and then he smiled wanly.

“Ah, no. We’re hugging, see, because we’re friends. Good friends.”

Kirk patted him awkwardly on the back, and Spock attempted to formulate a plan that would enable him to release Kirk without making it too obvious that he was currently holding his backside.

“Oh. Why are your feet off the ground?”

Spock dropped Kirk instantly, and his feet hit the ground with a painful thud. Kirk, however, didn’t release his hold; if anything, the grip tightened.

“They’re not. See? Spock was just, ah…helping me. Yeah.”

Peter stared at them both while Kirk fumbled, and then he grinned a gap-toothed child’s smile.

“Are you hugging like Mom and Dad do?”

Kirk looked absolutely horrified, and he buried his head against Spock’s shoulder.

“Oh God. Ew.”

Spock looked at Peter.

“Yes,” he said shortly, and Kirk groaned again. Peter, at least, looked appeased, and Spock—judging it safe to move away from Kirk—carefully removed Kirk’s hands from his back. There was a reason, after all, that Peter had come to see them only three hours after he had been put to sleep.

“Was there something you required?”

Peter’s lip began to wobble.

“No. I heard noises. I got scared.”

Kirk snapped out of his embarrassment with remarkable speed, and he crouched down low next to his nephew, voice gentle as he gripped his thin shoulders.

“There’s nothing to be scared of, Peter. Whatever noises you heard, it’s just the sort of thing that happens when a ship is running. Moving joints and all that.”

Peter shook his head.

“Something was moaning, Uncle Jim.”

Kirk looked pained and his face was suddenly bright red, but he simply patted Peter’s head.

“Like I said. Normal when the ship is running.”

Peter looked at Kirk for a moment, and then he surged forward, the resulting hug speaking of relief and love. Spock found himself approving of the use of the small lie when that wobbly smile formed again, and he didn’t have to see Kirk’s face to know that affection must have been plainly visible there as well.

Peter pulled back, and his smile turned shy as he glanced at Spock. He leaned forward again, and this time his voice was a whisper that Spock still clearly heard.

“Will you tuck me in?”

“Of course, champ.” Kirk glanced at Spock and smiled thinly.“Just, ah, give me a moment.”

Peter complied, disappearing through the bathroom and back into Kirk’s quarters. Spock waited until he judged the young child to be out of earshot, or at least no longer interested in their conversation.

“Moaning?”

Kirk shrugged, looking sheepish. His face was a much more normal pink shade, but Spock had to admit he found Kirk’s embarrassment—Kirk, the man who had stood naked in a room full of alien dignitaries on one of their more recent missions—somewhat endearing.

“Yeah—I didn’t know the walls were so thin.”

“They are not; a door must have been unable to close.”

Kirk slapped a hand to his forehead, and he laughed, the sound tired.

“Damn it. No, really—damn it. I’ll be right back.”

Spock shifted, and then he smoothed his hair back down. Now that he had a moment to catch his breath—illogical, really, given Vulcan lung capacity—he realized that there was simply something unacceptable about taking Kirk against a wall when there were children only one door over.

“There is no need to hurry; I have experiments that I must attend to.”

Kirk looked at him with the same horrified expression of before, but this time his lips twisted and he gestured to his lower half. Spock did not remember unbuttoning his pants although he must have done so, and the flash of red briefs was tempting.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Although Spock could admit to some new reluctance with his decision, he did not wish their relationship to begin this way.

“I am…uncomfortable continuing these activities with children nearby.”

He was honest, but Kirk still looked miserable and just short of pulling out his hair in frustration.

“I’ll lock the door?” Kirk’s voice was plaintive, but Spock shook his head.

“That would be impractical, as they may require your presence at any moment.”

Then, before either of them could discuss it further, Spock quietly left his quarters, the door whishing shut on the face of a disgruntled Kirk.

He knew he did not imagine the loud “ _God damn it”_ that echoed through the corridor after him.

********

Spock spent two point four hours in the main science laboratory going over reports and experiments that he had already conducted in order to give Kirk time to recover; when he returned, it was to the sight of Kirk sleeping on top of his bed covers, fully dressed. It was clear from his posture—half-sitting, head sloped to one-side, arms crossed—that he had not intended to sleep, but in fact to remain awake, most likely with the intention of waiting for Spock. However, the late hour and Kirk’s own eventful day had worked against him, and the result was that he had not even had time to change clothes before sleep had claimed him.

Spock—who had doubts about whether what occurred that night had happened at all or was merely a fabrication of his hopeful mind—was somewhat touched by the gesture, even though logic said it was unnecessary. Still, in his own display of private gratitude, Spock gently maneuvered Kirk into a more comfortable position and removed his boots and winter flannel before covering him with a soft sheet and turning the heat down to what Spock understood was a comfortable level for humans. Then, aware that it was approaching four in the morning, he dressed in his warmest nightclothes and grabbed an extra blanket before laying down next to Kirk and closing his eyes.

The even breathing of his captain next to him lulled him to sleep, and it was harsh gasping and an almost violent kiss that pulled him, bleary-eyed, from his rest. When Kirk realized he was awake, the kiss gentled, turning into a delicious sucking touch that made Spock consider air a worthy trade for such sensations.

Kirk pulled back abruptly with a smack, breathing heavily. Spock—now fully awake—realized that Kirk was straddling him with powerful thighs, and although his mouth was grinning, his lips were swollen red.

“Sorry,” he panted out, and Spock—forgetting his intention to mention how illogical apologies were in this instance—found he could only lick his lips in response. Kirk just continued to grin.

“Yeah, that one was for me. This one, however, is for you.”

Kirk leaned forward and Spock met him halfway, arching his neck uncomfortably and not caring. This kiss was the polar opposite of the first, their noses softly nuzzling while they licked at each other’s lips and swallowed each other’s warm breath. The kiss lasted approximately three minutes, and Spock was ashamed to note that it took him nearly as long to recall what the circumstances were that had led to Kirk being in his bed. When he did, he frowned, and Kirk withdrew with a laugh, clearly feeling the twitch of lips under his own.

“Sorry to wake you up so early, Spock, but it’s Christmas,” was all he said, clearly misinterpreting the reason for Spock’s reaction; Spock allowed it.

“I do not understand the relevance of that statement.”

Kirk shrugged, and the wrinkled black t-shirt he wore revealed a sliver of his pale stomach.

“Well, it’s six in the morning—”

“0557, Captain.”

Kirk ignored him.

“—and that means we have to go get presents and set up the tree before the kids wake up.”

Spock raised an eyebrow.

“Tree, Captain?”

Kirk shrugged again, and then he rolled off of Spock and flopped on his stomach, explaining with his face close to Spock’s own.

“Well, normally it would be a bit of an ordeal, but we’re going to cheat and just use the transporter to swipe my Mom’s. That’s where we’ll get the presents too, actually; she stores them all in her closet.”

Spock found, to his surprise, that the idea had merit.

“I see. How long do we have to complete this task?”

“No more than an hour, probably; kids always wake up early on Christmas.”

Spock waited for an explanation, but when none was forthcoming and Kirk just continued to stare at him with contentment on his face, Spock sat up and straightened his clothes automatically.

“I see. If you will provide me with the coordinates, I will retrieve these items for you while you proceed with your morning activities.”

Kirk smiled—most likely he found it amusing to see Spock straightening his pajamas like they were his uniform—and he yawned into Spock’s pillow before answering.

“Already did that; I just wanted to kiss you. Also, I don’t have coordinates; it’s going to be kind of a guess-and-check sort of thing for a while, but we’ll manage.”

“Very well. Allow me to get dressed, and we will proceed with your plans.”

Kirk grinned and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. Spock was surprised, after all their kissing of before, that it was this simple gesture that made his blood run hot; perhaps there was something to be said about love being the ultimate aphrodisiac.

Spock turned to intercept the kiss, and Kirk hummed softly against his lips for one lingering second before he shimmied away.

“Tree first.”

Spock reluctantly agreed, waiting only long enough for Kirk to leave the room before he stood to get dressed.

********

The tree, as it happened, was quite large—very large. Spock would even estimate that it was larger than the automobile they had accidentally beamed up the first time, and he mentioned this to Kirk with something like awe while Kirk explained that the tree was his Mom’s baby, a gorgeous blue spruce because she didn’t like the smell of pine trees. Spock—who found the strong resinous smell of pine overwhelming at best—had to agree with her choice, and it was fortunate that he did, as he doubted the smell of the massive tree would leave the _Enterprise_ anytime soon.

It was also fortunate that they had beamed the children’s presents up first, as it became quickly apparent that the tree would not be moved, not even by Vulcan strength.

Kirk smiled at him sheepishly after they tried one last time to remove it from where it was wedged under the ceiling, to no avail.

“I probably should have thought this through, huh?”

Spock brushed a few curving blue needles from his shoulder, and he suspected the shedding tree would make for an interesting clean-up in the next few days.

“Indeed. I did not expect this tree of yours to have quite these dimensions.”

Christmas trees, according to Spock’s limited knowledge, were often young and of manageable size; this one had to have been more than fifty years old.

“Yeah, I guess I forgot. Oh well; we can just open presents here.”

 _Here_ , of course, was the transporter pad itself, and Spock hurriedly protested although he could think of no alternative.

“That is quite illogical, as it will impede transportation in the event of an emergency.”

Kirk just gave him a look before straightening the precariously located ornaments nearest to him.

“Spock, nobody will call with an emergency on Christmas; I know people who could be missing one leg and fending off a bear with the other and _still_ not call for help on Christmas.”

“That is an…alarming visual.”

Kirk nodded cheerfully, and a strand of garland floated to the floor.

“You bet. Now, I’m going to go wake the kids—or find them if they’re already awake—and you just stuff the presents by the trunk and try not to let the tree fall over, okay?”

Spock nodded and watched Kirk go with some amusement before he examined the tree itself. Covered with orbs of blue and red and silver glass as well as tinsel and garland, it should not have been stable; however, the fact that it was wedged firmly on the relatively small transporter pad gave it the extra bracing it needed to stay standing.

Deciding it to be stable enough, Spock carefully arranged the presents—thirteen of them—underneath the bottom needles but well within reach in the event that he had miscalculated the sturdiness of the tree. He had just spared a moment to toss the shimmering garland back on the long branches in front of him when a veritable stampede of over-excited children burst into the transporter room.

Spock, alarmed, reacted in the only way he could; he moved. Alan and Richard dove at the presents as soon as they were revealed, and Spock had only wondered where Kirk was for a second before he appeared with a squirming Peter in his arms, panting from the pursuit of his energetic nephews.

Peter dove on the presents like his brothers had, their voices squealing in excitement.

“Uncle Jim! Presents!”

Kirk laughed.

“That’s right, kiddos. Hey, hey—one at a time!”

His words were mostly ignored, but nobody seemed to mind. Spock, aware that he was watching another classic Christmas ritual, could only stare at the scene in front of him in fascination. Children, he reminded himself, were almost always more materialistic than adults, and the heap of packages showed this clearly; however, Spock could admit that he was somewhat surprised by the contents of the boxes, since he had been led to believe human children were much more inclined to wish for playthings.

There were toys, of course; Richard received a remote controlled hovercraft that could change shape in mid-air, and Alan received something similar for his age, but restricted to the ground. Peter received the most toys, but that was to be expected, given his age; they were all brightly colored and loud, and Spock would have covered his ears except the toys were set aside in order to open up the final gifts.

Kirk, as it happened, had given each of them a book, interactive and on a specific subject. The children reacted as human children did—with surprise and disappointment—but Spock didn’t miss the way Richard’s eyes lit up as he flipped the virtual pages and saw specifications for known ships, nor did he miss the interest on Alan’s face as his book began to explain media and entertainment across alien species. Although the toys were by far the items they found the most interesting, there was still an almost overwhelming fascination for the knowledge contained in those slim volumes. The dichotomy was…interesting.

Spock couldn’t help but think that they were indeed Kirks through-and-through.

The entire spectacle lasted forty-seven minutes; by the time it ended, however, Kirk looked exhausted from chasing wrapping paper around the room and other festivities. Spock was almost relieved on his behalf when the children were told they may keep one gift but that the rest would be beamed back down immediately.

The children took only a moment to select their gifts, and then Kirk sagged against the transporter console.

“Okay, Spock—let’s beam the whole mess back where it came from.”

“Gladly, Captain.”

The holiday symbols disappeared in a swirl of white to the coordinates stored in the controls, and Kirk grinned at him. Spock—very aware of the children watching them intently—resisted the urge to savor his lips again; he was quite uncertain how they were going to adjust to the professionalism expected after the holiday seasons.

Kirk must have had a similar thought, because he straightened determinedly. Spock did not believe his nephews were fooled, but he raised his eyebrow and spoke blandly anyway.

“If you are quite finished, perhaps breakfast is in order?”

“Yeah—oh!” Kirk held up both his hands.“Wait a minute; beam me down like ten feet from where the tree landed, and I’ll be right back. I just have to grab something.”

Spock, curious, waited while Kirk bounded to the transporter pad, and he carefully calculated coordinates that would not leave Kirk inside a wall or perched precariously on top of a flight of stairs. He activated the transporter and Kirk, too, disappeared. Spock waited.

He received a formal signal to recall Kirk less than a minute after he had beamed down, and Spock was relieved to not be left alone with his nephews long enough to be required to converse with them.

The relief wilted somewhat upon seeing that Kirk had a small package in his hands, which he then held out determinedly.

Someone, Richard perhaps, whistled.

“Here you go; merry Christmas, Spock.”

Spock accepted it, and the weight of it—a book, he was certain—was as heavy as his heart was light. He didn’t know what to say, and he found himself babbling for the first time in years.

“I am flattered, but…it was not necessary, and…I—thank you, Jim.”

“No problem, just open it!”

Spock did; as he’d expected, it was a book. However, the contents of the book were something he would not have anticipated: an explanation of a wide variety of holidays, translated into Vulcan Standard, and, what’s more, a quick glance revealed that all the holidays were explained in order to mesh with Vulcan ideals. The contents itself, combined with the heavy paper and leather frame and the intricate gold lettering, made it an impressive, thoughtful, and no doubt expensive gift.

“It is beautiful. Thank you.” It was an understatement, and Spock wanted, very dearly, to express what words simply couldn’t. A kiss. A touch. Both would have been inappropriate.

Kirk covered his hand that lingered over the lettering and squeezed once before releasing him.

“You’re welcome. Now, you said something about breakfast?”

********

Breakfast was slightly louder than dinner had been; Kirk explained, in a hushed voice, that it was because Alan wasn’t scared of him anymore and because there were now toys in the equation, with the exception of Richard’s interactive book that seemed to hold an equal level of interest for him. Between the noises of the machines at the table and the absent conversation and occasional laugh of the children, Spock was unable to converse with Kirk as he really wanted to, to ask questions about how they would be from this point on, to ask for answers about how their relationship had suddenly changed this past day. More than that, however, Spock found himself wanting to touch with an alarming frequency: brushing Kirk’s hand “accidentally” as they spoke, sitting too close to feel his heat, tapping him lightly on the leg to catch his attention. It was illogical and distracting, and Kirk, for his part, did nothing to dissuade what must have seemed like an odd change to him.

Despite the distraction of Kirk’s presence, Spock learned more about Richard than he had in the entire day previous; Kirk whispered, amused, that it was because his “talkative filter” was missing. Apparently, Richard had a crush on a young Andorian girl. Spock did not know how this was relevant, except he was informed that Kirk had been trying to pry that information out of his eldest nephew for some time, and he had been unable to do so. Spock responded by saying infatuation with Andorians was only logical for young boys, since their species was often reckless and treacherous in an appealing way.

Kirk looked at him oddly and said not to spoil Richard’s “first love;” Spock doubted he had that kind of power, but then, he had been wrong before. The issue did not matter, in any case, as Kirk ended the request with a hand high on his thigh and Spock found he did not mind—craved it, in fact.

After breakfast ended and Kirk announced his intentions to go “caroling” (an odd practice that was lost on an empty ship, or so Spock understood) Spock immediately pulled away from Kirk.

Kirk smiled up at him with his normal confidence, but the self-assurance faded somewhat when he noticed how stiffly Spock held himself. Before Spock could explain, Kirk told his nephews to go wait in the transporter room, and then he placed a warm, caring hand placed on Spock’s lower back.

“Spock? You in another mood?”

Kirk’s voice was concerned, and Spock did not correct him again about Vulcan “moods.”

He had come to a much more serious realization, and the result was a painful feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“I am not. However, Captain, I do not think that asexual relationship between us would be wise.”

Spock expected denial, or perhaps anger. What he did not expect was resignation, and something like exasperated amusement.

“Okay, I’ve been expecting this. Why? Regulations? Vulcan-isms? Four illegitimate but charming children you have stashed away somewhere?”

“No. I find that I am having…difficulties focusing on outside concerns when you are near me.”

Kirk actually looked surprised.

“How so?”

“I wish to touch you. I wish to be alone with you. I wish…” Spock trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, somewhat ashamed.

“Oh, Spock!”Kirk let out a relieved laugh. “That’s just frustration talking. Trust me, I’m having the same problem.”

Kirk did not understand, clearly.

“It is not Vulcan.”

Kirk just shrugged, a small smile playing about his lips.

“It probably is, actually, or how do you think baby Vulcans are created? Lust is pretty close to universal.”

Spock resisted the urge to explain Vulcan biology to his Captain; he was aware, at least, of the point Kirk was making, and he knew that his father had not been experiencing _pon farr_ upon his conception.

It was actually quite a disturbing thought, but not nearly as disturbing as the reality of Kirk inching close to him. Spock’s body cried out for more contact; it was very inconvenient.

“This is a most uncomfortable effect. How do you manage it?”

Kirk shrugged again, and Spock felt the motion against his shoulders. It was pleasant in a way that he had not expected, but he was far more interested in the fact that Kirk actually looked away, embarrassed.

“Normally I medicate with sex, but I haven’t for a while. Also, I’m normally not cock-blocked by my nephews.”

The attached grin was sheepish, and Spock was flattered.

_He was waiting for me._

“I see.”

Kirk patted his back then and pulled away; Spock missed him instantly.

“The urgency will wear off, Spock—I promise. Right now you may want to get me naked as quickly as possible, but after a few weeks, it’ll be better.”

“I am relieved to hear this.” Kirk, after all, had experience in these matters. He understood the core of Spock’s problem if not its intensity, and Spock had to convince himself that this…issue was only temporary.

Still…he burned, more so when Kirk smiled at him and leaned in conspiratorially.

“If you like that, you’ll _love_ this: Mom’s work is due to be over in less than two hours, so I’ll only have the kids for a maximum of four more.”

Spock’s heart thudded erratically in his side, but his voice was calm.

“Did you not wish to participate in other activities with your family?”

Kirk just smiled wider and wagged his finger.

“ _Family_ , Spock—there’s that word again.”

Kirk kissed him on the cheek and patted his shoulder. Spock was distracted, and Kirk nodded once and walked away, no doubt off to be the wonderful uncle again. Spock sighed, and when Kirk looked back at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes, Spock almost glared.

“You are just “holding out” for sex.”

“No, but that’s definitely a perk.”

********

Spock did not attempt to complete any more projects that day; after his unexpected time in the lab during the night, he was well caught up to his already demanding schedule, and his mind would not have been able to focus. Temporary, Kirk had said, but Spock suspected the desire also grew the longer it was ignored. If he had not been too young for such things, he would have suspected an onset of _pon farr_ ; however, he quickly realized that—although it was difficult to focus—the intense emotions that should have been present simply were not. He merely craved with an intensity that was almost frightening, but that hunger was not dangerous, simply distracting.

Instead of work, Spock found himself reading the book Kirk had given him, lingering over the entry for Christmas. It was much as his own research had shown, with Christmas being illogical and based in myth more than fact, but it lacked the more emotionally-charged realizations Spock had come to over the past few years. In that respect, the book was still cherished, still enjoyable, but he felt the presence of his human half keenly, a side that a Vulcan text would not think to account for. The knowledge—normally a source of shame—was somehow not as intense as it usually was.

Perhaps with Kirk’s help, being part human didn’t have to be a bad thing.

Spock was still reflecting on this when his personal consul chimed with an incoming call. As a matter of practicality, he had temporarily directed all communications through both the science laboratories and his own quarters so that he—as the only remaining officer on-board—may be informed directly of any situation; however, he had not expected it to be necessary, especially after Kirk’s call for help.

Half curious and half suspicious, Spock answered the comm.

“ _Enterprise_ receiving, Commander Spock here.”

The image of a middle-aged woman formed on the screen, the face open, familiar, and smiling under the thin lines of age. Spock did not need the woman’s name to know who she was.

“Nice to meet you, Commander Spock. Are my grandchildren and son on-board?”

“Yes, madam. If you will give me a moment, I will determine their location and direct your call accordingly.”

She smiled at him, and the light blue eyes lit up much the same way as Kirk’s did—with amusement, Spock believed.

“That’s not necessary. Have him call me back as soon as he can, okay?” She gestured to her surroundings, a busy terminal filled to the brim with annoyed human faces.“I arrived early.”

“As you wish.”

The call ended, and Spock—for lack of a suitable alternative for his time—simply stood and set his book aside, intending to locate Kirk immediately.

Although he used the ship’s locator, he suspected he would have been able to find them by hearing alone; specifically, the slightly off-key singing that filled the engineering room. Spock waited.

“We wish you a merry Christmas, oh we wish you a merry Christmas, and a happy New Year!”

The song—a classic—ended on an unnecessary crescendo that made the children laugh, and Spock stepped forward before Kirk could unleash another cheerfully performed song.

“Captain?”

“Spock! Have you come to sing to the engines too?”

Spock raised an eyebrow, and he shared a glance with the children who were also looking at Kirk like he had somehow lost his mind.

“You are singing to the engines?”

Kirk nodded happily, and Spock didn’t miss the way his eyes darted quickly over his form. The proof that Kirk was similarly affected—while unnecessary—did not go unappreciated.

“Yeah. Sulu sings to his plants, so I thought it was only appropriate. So?”

Spock recalled that Kirk had asked him a question, and he shook his head.

“No, Captain. However, I received a communiqué from your mother, and she wished you to return her call.”

“Oh, okay.” Kirk turned his head and raised his voice, the increased volume causing it to crack almost imperceptibly.“Kids! Go get your stuff, you’re going back to Grandma’s!”

There was a cheerful shout and the children scattered; Kirk watched them go with an amused expression.

“I love calling her that; I don’t think she expected to be a grandmother.”

Spock nodded, aware of Kirk’s tendency towards teasing.

“I see. If you will excuse me.”

“Oh, hey, don’t go!”

Spock had already turned to leave when Kirk darted out a hand to stop him. Spock looked back at him, and Kirk’s lips parted, eyes going dark. Spock felt himself shiver with anticipation, and they leaned towards one another.

Kirk bumped an engineering consul, and they were both jerked back to reality. Kirk cleared his throat and looked away, releasing Spock’s arm with near-tangible reluctance.

“What I mean is, now is probably a good time to meet my mother.”

“We have already met.”

Spock did not understand, and Kirk looked up at him.

“Yeah, but not _met_ met. Trust me on this.”

Spock did, impossibly so, and so he followed when Kirk darted out to the nearest conference room for his call.

The waiting period was short; Kirk’s mother was obviously familiar with Vulcan efficiency, and she no doubt had been expecting her call to be returned quickly.

Kirk just waved, and when Spock made to move out of the direct line of sight, Kirk caught him by the hand. Spock was grateful that the height of the table kept their hands from being seen.

“Hi Mom.”

“Jimmy! I see Commander Spock found you.” If she was surprised to see him on the other side of the video screen next to her son, she did not show it.

“Yes, he did. Mom, this is Spock. Spock, this is my mother.”

Spock nodded respectfully.

“Mrs. Kirk.”

She waved the address away, and Spock caught the flash of a wedding ring on her finger.

“Oh, it’s Branford now; just Winona is fine, anyway. Did Jim decide to keep you company?”

“Yes. He was most persistent.”

She snorted, the sound lighter than Kirk’s similar reaction.

“I’ll bet.”

Kirk just smiled and looked at Spock fondly.

Spock assumed it was some bond between a mother and her child that caused her eyes to widen as she realized what hadn’t been spoken.

“Jim! Why didn’t you tell me you were in a relationship?” Her voice was loud and happy, and Spock released tension he hadn’t been aware of as Kirk smoothed his thumb across the back of his hand.

“Because I wasn’t. I think I am now.”

She whistled.

“That new, huh? Well, I guess dinner is out, then; you probably have plans.”

“We do.”

Kirk’s gaze said it all, and she laughed. Spock would have been embarrassed, but years among humans had taught him that laughter came in different forms, and hers was kind and teasing, much like the Captain’s always was.

“Careful, Jim; I hear Vulcans are pretty unmatched when it comes to stamina.”

Spock nodded absently.

“That is correct.”

She laughed again, and Spock did not miss the way Kirk goggled at him in surprise.

“Now, you do sound like Jimmy’s kind of guy. Have fun you two—oh, and Jim, just give me a few minutes to clean up and send your nephews on down; you left the living room in a bit of a mess.”

Kirk nodded absently for a long moment before answering.

“Of course, Mom. Merry Christmas!” Kirk punctuated the salutation with a blown kiss, and as soon as the screen went dark, he turned to look at Spock incredulously.

“Did you just confirm to my _mother_ that we’re going to be having sex all night?”

“Yes.” It had not been his intention, but it was accurate all the same.

“God, I just…I’m going to send my nephews home right now, and then I’m going to jump you. No, don’t protest; it’s better for everybody.”

Spock nodded solemnly.

“If you insist, I shall endure.”

Kirk shook his head in amusement, and then—quite suddenly—he raised their clasped hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to Spock’s before releasing him quickly.

Spock noticed, with some amusement, that Kirk’s pupils had expanded by fifteen percent.

“Good. Now, I’m going to go splash some water on my face—to my _mother_ , geesh Spock!—and then we’ll beam them down.”

Spock took the statement as the warning— _promise_ —it was, and he gladly left the room to avoid temptation. He felt Kirk watching him as he walked away, and he hurried quickly to the Captain’s chambers, aware that it was a human custom to bid farewell to new acquaintances, and he doubted he would have another opportunity.

He resolutely refused to admit that—on some level—he would miss the children.

********

Spock did not see the children to the transporter room; in fact, he had only rushed out a series of hurried goodbyes when Kirk appeared, his face flushed and eyes dark and lust pouring off of him in waves. Spock simply nodded to the group one last time and ducked back into his quarters, waiting, as he suspected it would not benefit either of them to remain together in such an agitated state.

He did not have to wait long; his door chimed not ten minutes after Kirk disappeared to walk his nephews to the transporter, and Spock was both oddly distressed and flattered that he had cut his loving goodbye short to come to _him_.

As soon as the door closed, Kirk lunged for him. Spock wasn’t prepared, and so the force of the embrace rocked them backwards for a moment before they regained their balance, swaying like a pair of drunks with their arms around one another. Any comment Spock might have made on the action, however, was lost in a gasp when Kirk began to press a series of sucking kisses to his throat. The sensation was nearly overwhelming, and when one particularly lingering kiss skirted the edge of pain, Spock moaned.

Kirk moaned too.

“Yes, _finally_. You taste so good—I always knew you would taste good, Spock. You don’t know how hard it’s been to resist all these months.”

Spock swallowed, and it was only then that he realized he’d been caressing Kirk with gentle hands the entire time.

“If the past day was the result of resistance, Jim, I do not know how we had not come to this point earlier.”

Kirk smiled against his throat, and when he pulled back just barely, the expression remained.

“Spock, I love you, but if you don’t shut up and kiss me, I might go crazy.”

Spock cradled his head between his hands, fingers lingering over rounded ears and brushing cheekbones.

“As you wish.”

The kiss was gentle, tender, and loving; although he felt urgency and need, Spock still touched their lips together lightly, certain it was as first kisses should be, with more caring than contact. Kirk didn’t seem to agree, and when Spock kept the pressure hesitant, he surged forward. Spock pulled back, and Kirk tried to follow him, making a frustrated noise when Spock kissed his cheek.

Spock frowned, confused.

“Is something wrong?”

Kirk shook his head, and his hands petted Spock’s back almost absently.

“No, but I, ah, have a confession to make.”

Spock waited.

“When you had me against the wall earlier, I liked it. A lot.”

Spock raised one eyebrow, and he took the flush on Kirk’s cheeks to mean he was understating the matter slightly. Still, Spock heard what he hadn’t explicitly stated.

“You do not wish me to be gentle?”

Kirk nodded quickly, obviously relieved that Spock understood.

“There’ll be time for that later. Right now…let’s just get it out of ours system, okay?”

Spock nodded quickly, eagerly, and he moved back to lock their mouths together. The loving touch of before was swallowed in lust and impatience, and when Spock moved to deepen the kiss, Kirk pushed their mouths together inelegantly, stinging his lips as they were caught by teeth. It was deep and fervent and illogical, but the kiss made the burn in Spock pulse to a sweet flame, covering everything except the need to touch, to claim, to know.

When Spock pushed Kirk against the nearest bulkhead, Kirk twisted free, and Spock heard a noise that should not have come from him.

“Nakedness first, Spock; just gimme one second.”

Spock shed his clothes quickly while he watched Kirk struggle with the fastening of his pants, frustrated noises bubbling up from deep in his throat. After a minute of fumbling, Kirk just sucked in a breath and pushed his pants down, the red briefs following, and he kicked them off his legs.

Spock had only a moment to appreciate the heavy organ that bobbed between Kirk’s thighs before he turned, bracing his hands against the bulkhead and spreading his legs. The smooth orbs of his backside flexed, and the contrast of his naked lower half with the wholesome presence of his long-sleeved shirt made Spock swallow.

He no longer felt a flame, but a furnace, a comet, a _sun_ , and when his hands reached out, gripping the flesh exposed to his gaze, Kirk arched back against him. A familiar smell filled the air, and Spock took a moment, just one, to trail his fingers up under Kirk’s shirt while he leaned over him. However, when he pushed the fabric up the length of the lean back, he paused to savor the sensory flood around him.

Kirk twisted his head to look at him.

“What are you doing back there?” The words were teasing but his voice came out as a pant, and Spock answered absently as he studied the contrast of his hands on Kirk’s skin.

“Many mammals, when aroused, produce a certain scent.” Spock breathed deeply, and Kirk’s breath hitched.

“I can smell it on you.”

Kirk groaned.

“Oh god, Spock, I’m going out of my mind here! Please, just…anything!”

Spock complied by dipping one hand into the line between Kirk’s cheeks, brushing against the tiny orifice with interest. Kirk shuddered, tensed momentarily, and then relaxed as Spock’s fingers massaged the concealed flesh.

“Lube?”

Kirk sounded dazed, and Spock gestured to his lower half, where his penis was even now secreting a clear, slippery fluid.

“Unnecessary.” He leaned forward to kiss Kirk’s lower back.“If I may continue?”

Kirk nodded and clenched his fingers against the bulkhead, watching Spock with intent eyes when one finger slid into the hot channel. The tight pressure was welcome, and if Kirk felt any discomfort, he did not show it, as he reacted by rocking his hips backwards with enthusiasm. A second finger received the same reaction, and Spock marveled at Kirk’s ability to adjust, among other things.

“Jim?”

Kirk hummed and looked away, bracing himself more firmly, and that was all the permission Spock needed to withdraw his fingers, the slick residue of his own pre-ejaculate sliding down Kirk’s skin. The smell of arousal was stronger now, and a quick glance showed that the dusky pink head of Kirk’s penis had darkened to a near-painful color, twitching unacknowledged in the open air. Spock paused in his actions to touch it, lightly, and when Kirk growled and nearly twisted away from the wall, he released the firm shaft with the intention of returning later. Spock aligned himself with Kirk’s opening, gripped his hips, and thrust quickly; Kirk arched against him and Spock smoothed a palm down his spine, feeling the faint presence of bone as he pulled back and thrust again. The heat of Kirk was pleasant, the tight clasp of him overwhelming, and Spock closed his eyes just briefly to savor the sensation.

Kirk clenched around him, the message clear, and Spock opened his eyes quickly. He braced a hand against the wall over Kirk’s head, and Spock used the support as an excuse to remove his other hand from Kirk’s hip, the freed fingers carding through the hair at the base of Kirk’s penis before finally wrapping around the neglected member, pumping furiously. Kirk made a sound of displeasure at the friction between their dry skin, and Spock jerked his hand up to catch the fluid gathering at the tip, using the liquid to smooth the way and give pleasure rather than pain. When Kirk hummed in his throat again, the sound approving, Spock began to thrust wildly, and the motions of his hand matched the rhythm of their lower bodies. The wall creaked with the force of their coupling, and when Kirk climaxed, spurting white liquid across his carpet, Spock quickly followed.

It took a moment for them to catch their breath, and it took even longer for Spock to realize that they were both shaking, Kirk with the effort of holding himself in such an awkward position and Spock for something else entirely. They separated, but they both knew it was not what they wanted; when Kirk straightened, his body still glistening with sweat, Spock wanted him again.

Thankfully, however, Kirk had been right; the burn was gone, replaced with a gentle flicker of emotion and only the twinges of lust that were to be expected when he was watching the man he loved and desired stretch naked.

When Kirk looked at him, he was grinning widely and he had a satisfied glint in his eyes.

“Well, _that_ was certainly what I’ve been waiting for! Holy cow, Spock.”

Spock straightened, and he would have clasped his hands behind his back except Kirk was already staring quite openly at him.

“I see no sacred bovine, Jim. Are you quite well?”

“That’s cute.” Kirk jerked a thumb over his shoulder.“Bedroom?”

“Do you not wish to cleanse yourself first?”

“Me? No, not really. I haven’t felt an ache like this in years.” Kirk punctuated the statement with another stretch, and Spock’s eyes widened.

“Did I injure you?” A very real concern; Spock was aware that humans were generally not designed to withstand Vulcan strength.

“Me? No, not really,” Kirk repeated, blinking his eyes innocently. Spock sighed, exasperated.

“Do you not require a recovery period?”

Kirk waved the statement away.

“No longer than you, I’m sure.”

Spock, in reply, simply gestured to his lower half a second time, aware that he was aroused once again. Kirk, of all things, actually glared at him.

“Hey. Hey. That’s not fair; I thought you were only joking about Vulcan stamina!”

“Vulcans do not joke.”

“But they apparently go at it like bunnies. Huh. Well, we’ll work on that. Bedroom?”

Spock raised one eyebrow.

“I do not see the point of continuing while you are not aroused.”

Kirk looked surprised for an instant.

“You don’t? That’s…freakin’ _adorable_ , Spock.”

Kirk laughed, and Spock straightened.

“If you are going to be insulting—”

Kirk held up his hands in surrender, and then he walked calmly into the bedroom and sat in the center of the bedspread.

“I’m not. But come on, sit with me. Just sit with me.”

Kirk patted the standard blue cloth for emphasis, and Spock followed him, sitting on the edge of the mattress almost hesitantly; Kirk was looking far too nonchalant for his tastes. Still, when he sat, Kirk simply smiled at him.

“Oh, and one more thing: merry Christmas!”

Spock nodded, abruptly remembering the holiday.

“Indeed. Merry Christmas to you al—”

Kirk dragged him backwards with a kiss before he could finish.

********

End


End file.
